Dear Diary,

I'm not sure, but I think one of the hardest parts about adulting, at least for me, has got to be when my accumulated mental trauma reaches up to tie me down, and I've got to get up and do shit anyhow. Especially if what I've got to do isn't something I can do angry, or scared, or in some other way pumped full of flight or fight. Like, if I'm depressed and someone threatens my family, I can take that shit out on them. All the rage and self-destructive impulses have an outlet. Same goes for when I'm afraid, even if personal fear for myself hasn't really been something I've felt very often here and now. But I still remember back in the day when I'd walk past an alley and some dude would step out and start following me. No matter how depressed I was, that got the juices flowing.

Pro tip: do not choose 'fuck' in those instances. Just flee or fight. Dudes take it the wrong way when you vomit while they're pawing at you. Will not make that mistake again.

At any rate, I've got shit to do today and can't afford to be angry or scared during it. Okay, 'afford' is probably the wrong word. Not like the folks here and now aren't used to Deities going all hate fuck on their Worshippers. I'd say 'fuckin' Zeus', but I'm pretty sure Poseidon has pulled that same crap, which is how Medusa happened. Still gotta figure out why her sisters are working at Lancaster House now. Pretty sure they've got some kind of long game, but so long as they're not hurting anybody here, or anybody who doesn't deserve it, I guess I've got to pull on my big girl panties and be a fuckin' Goddess of Vengeance and shit.

Speaking of big girl panties, I had places to be, people to pay attention to, and I somehow think they'd feel some kinda way if I showed up with actual ones on.

Saffron, still holding me in the Bedroom, crooning supportive little nothings in my ear, whispered, "I'll tell Orla you're indisposed."

"No, wait."

She paused, looking at me. "Are you sure, my love?"

I nodded. "I... I don't want to disappoint them, and I think I would if I didn't go tonight." She just hummed, and I forced myself to admit, "I kinda worry you'd be disappointed as well. And," I paused, and she just waited until I whispered, "I think I'd be disappointed in me too."

"Are you feeling better then?"

I shrugged. "Mostly? I guess I'm worried about disappointing them, which is better than the absolute certainty I had earlier that I would."

"Would you like me there with you?"

I paused, pondering that. "Might send the wrong message, though?"

She snorted. "What, that I'm impatiently waiting for my turn on Calverton's altar?" I snorted and laughed at her. "I was gonna say about me wanting you more than them." I sighed again. "Wouldn't be so bad if it weren't true."

She reached out, laid a hand on my cheek. "Oh, love. We all have preferences. Tastes. But you've never once taken Siobhan, Marie, or I up on our standing offer to entertain you while you attend to your congregation."

I smirked at her. "Came really close a couple times."

"Do they bore you, then?"

I shook my head. "Nah. No, really they don't. Each of them is new and different, even the ones who want the same thing Siobhan got on New Years each want something subtly different out of it. Heck, I'm not sure there's a common thread between all of those, let alone the ones who want something entirely different."

"Of course there is." She said it in such a matter of fact tone that I just sat there, head tilting, waiting for an explanation. "It's terrifying and comforting all at the same time for a force of nature to focus entirely on one person. To know, with absolute certainty, that that force of nature could erase them with but a thought. Perhaps not even a thought, just a careless gesture. A thoughtless twitch. And yet, you show them again and again that when it comes to those you've adopted as your own, you are never thoughtless. Never careless. Never a mindless font of need."

I muttered, "you mean kinda like I turned you and Siobhan into last Penance night?"

"Oh, that was not 'need', love. That was fulfilment of need, fulfilment to overflowing." She snuggled the side of my head into her chest, humming as she did so.

"Kinda meant before that."

She laughed out loud, the sound and motion both conspiring to steal my brain's carefully hoarded serotonin and distribute it through me. "Oh, no! Such a horrid fate, to be forced into such a parched state, then forced so full that we could not contain it, just to amplify the pleasure of the transition."

I sighed. "I know I keep saying this, but if you keep telling me shit like that, I'm gonna start believing it."

She pulled a smile onto my face as she kissed my forehead. "And ever shall I reply, you'd best start, because it's true." Then she looked down at me, her smirk in full effect. "You realize there is a literal line of Worshippers waiting for their intimate moment with you, yes?"

"Yeah, I know. I'll get moving in a second."

She shook her head. "Not what I meant. I merely pointed out that your ladies aren't the only ones who value your intimate embrace, your passion, your creativity, your absolute lack of anything resembling moderation when it comes to fulfilling our needs."

"Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Take me down there. Take me down there and plant my ass on that throne? To convince me that maybe, just maybe, you really aren't mad at me, that this is something you want me doing?"

She smiled at me, and a moment later Glowing Midnight's lingerie and boots covered her. She kissed my nose, which interrupted my incipient pout, and said, "would it help if I stayed? Stayed and applauded along with the rest of the audience?"

I froze. "Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, I think so."

She leaned down and covered my eyes with the black silk of her corsetry, whispering in my ear, "did just the thought of that perhaps light the flame that will warm your Worshippers this evening?"

Uh... yeah. I mentally mumbled, because my mouth was kinda squished against her belly.

She sat up from where I lay on Calverton's altar. "Well then. I'll be right over here," And now that I've taken you to the altar in Calverton, I'll take you on the altar in Calverton when you're done with your local Worshippers.

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God, I never want my Kitten to leave, but it is so fucking incredible watching her walk away. I stared until she turned, sat, and raised a single eyebrow, smiling impatiently. I sat up, something approaching a real smile searing itself across my face as I turned to the short line of temple volunteers remaining.

Only three tonight, and if all three were younger, and I mean early twenties at a guess, with the kind of tight physiques that let me know they'd been on the Orla Clergy training program, they were physically fit young adults, not genuine Heroes or Demigoddesses or anyone likely to take all night. Not that I'd begrudge any of my Worshippers all night if that's what they needed, wanted, could enjoy without lasting harm. First came Mercy, who practically embodied her name, at least to me, wanting nothing more than kindness, and maybe forgiveness, although nothing I could see within her warranted a need for it. When she realized that she could have both, it ignited a passion as fierce as it was short lived. Mercy reminded me a little of Siobhan in that way. As I lay her on the altar, I quietly asked Orla, "has she done anything to need my forgiveness?"

Orla winced. "We've many who lost much to the Undead. Some who even lost themselves before you rescued us from that walking damnation." She paused, and I waited for her to finish. "Mercy is from Norfolk. A former Thrall. She sits with them, listens to them. Encourages them not to squander the second chance they've been given." She stopped again, and I just nodded for her to go on, because so far there was nothing that she could have needed absolution for. "Some of us... can't go on. Like Madeline. She talks to them, sits with them, each and every one. For those who choose to end their lives, she asks only that they let her sit with them, let it be painless. She... helps some of them, I think."

Well. Fuck. Fuck on a fuckin' stick. "Is she a Priestess?"

"No, my Goddess. Simply a volunteer."

I shook my head. "I don't know what you do to promote someone, but if she's going to do that kind of work, all without... does she get anything from it?"

Orla shook her head, shrugged, then whispered, "nothing save the satisfaction of helping others. She blames herself for every one who gives up, though, I think."

"Shit. If I hadn't committed to the whole Trials thing, I think I'd make her Clergy right now. Make sure she has whatever support she needs for that."

"I will."

Then Travis, a big motherfucker built along the lines of Carruthers or Lachlan or even Orla herself. He stood there flexing, and I held my arms out half expecting him to want something like Devon. When I peered inside, I couldn't help but smile. "Gonna make me work tonight, huh?" He opened his mouth to reply. I didn't let him. As I'd seen him long for deep in the secret spots in his mind, I overpowered him. But unlike Orla, who just wanted to know her Goddess was stronger than her, strong enough to protect her, Travis wanted, needed, secretly longed for exactly what I gave him. Someone so much stronger than him that I could gently, quietly, inexorably force him to take the gentle, even sweet pleasure he craved. His final long, slow exhale as he fell unconscious etched a blissful smile onto his lips. I lay him on the altar and kissed his forehead. Then, because I couldn't resist, I whispered, "sleep well, and dream of large women."

Then came my last volunteer of the night. Giselle. Who did not fit my mental image of a 'Giselle'. I hear Giselle and I think long and leggy, maybe runway model tall, but definitely runway model skinny. Giselle wasn't short, but she wasn't super tall, either, and she was absolutely not skinny. Not completely doughy, either, I don't think anybody came within Orla's orbit without getting some daily calisthenics in or shit like that, but curvy as fuck. I squashed a sudden urge to bring my Kitten up on the stage just to surround my head with breasts bigger than my head. As said Kitten put fuzzy chuckles directly into my brain, I saw what Giselle wanted. Stalling for time, I shot that vision over to Saffron and asked, "so, what do you do here at the Temple, Giselle?"

She seemed a little surprised I chose to talk to her rather than just get with the baby making. Because that's what she wanted; if she wanted it any more she might have manifested the words 'breed me' in two foot tall burning letters above her head. I wasn't even really sure if she wanted my kid, or just a kid, or what, but I figured I ought to get some advice from someone with a superior quality brain before submitting yet another requisition to yet another baby factory. The owner of said factory blinked and glanced away. "I service visitors to the Temple, Goddess."

I frowned. Careful to keep my voice pleasant, I said, "don't take this the wrong way, Giselle, but I really don't like that word. Unless you're talking about something other than sex?"

She shook her head, and I waited until she said, "I... have sex with those who do not have partners of their own for Revels."

I smiled at her. "So you're a prostitute? Don't get me wrong, I'm cool with that. Sex work is work. So long as nobody's forcing anybody, it's cool."

At that point my Kitten's voice whispered in my head. You cannot get her pregnant, love. For the same reason Bonnie had to wait to get pregnant again.

A whole cascade of emotions ran through me after that. But I held all of them back when Giselle looked at the floor and whispered, "I am not skilled enough to be a prostitute. I am simply... a wanton?"

"A slut?" She winced a little, then nodded. I pulled her chin up, gently, until she could see my face. "Me too!"

"But... I'm nothing like..."

I cut her off with a kiss. When I pulled back, her eyes had gone unfocused, and I said, "do you enjoy it?" She nodded. "Do you like it better when they do too?" She nodded again, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Has anyone ever forced you?" The ghost of a frown crept into her smile. "Ignore you when you said 'no'?" She shook her head, but still frowned. "Explain?"

She sighed. "I should have told him no. Knew it wasn't safe. But he was so... even the working girls looked past him."

I shook my head, smiling at her. "And now you're worried that you're pregnant from a pity fuck?" She blushed, dropping her gaze to my feet as she nodded.

I mentally whispered to Saffron, my Temples will provide for any parents who can't provide for themselves.

You'd shield those like her from the consequences of their actions?

No. But I sure as fuck would shield their kids from those consequences. If the parents get over a little, so be it. Teach 'em some contraception if it gets out of hand.

I felt the warmth and the heat in her when she replied, as my Goddess commands.

Shifting over to boy mode, I lifted Giselle's chin until she looked me in the eyes. Her expression got maybe a little thirsty somewhere between my knees and my chin, but I was absolutely okay with that. "How about we remove that 'worry' then, huh?"

Yeah, I know, not actually my kid in the genetic sense. But my Temple would take care of them. All of them, or I'd know the fuckin' reason why. Also, kinda fun riding a squishy little MILF deep into dreamland.

Kinda funny, immediately after that, when Saffron stepped up to make with some squishy McMILF two, electric boogaloo, our wife interrupted. Marie towered over both of us, what with me sitting on the altar and Saffron being Saffron. Then, mega pregger belly and all, she looked down at both of us and growled out, "My Turn."

Yeah, half a night is not nearly long enough to melt my Murder Mittens, even with her nominal delicate condition. She was in rare form; I think she might have dug her claws into the altar hard enough to damage it, tryna force more of me into her or some shit like that. She definitely left plenty of ears ringing each and every time she popped off. Saffron... If I had any thought that Saffron was tryna make me jealous, I would have felt some kinda way, but she absolutely was not. Each and every group she joined for a bit lit more fires in Marie and I, and Siobhan showing up halfway through the remainder of the Revel and joining in made it even better.

When I felt the sun closing on the horizon, I called them both back to us, pulled Marie back to me, and, my mouth full of the scruff of her neck, thought, Marie? Simultaneous.

Saffron is a genius, a short stack of the highest order, but my Murder Mittens? She got skills.

We showered that fantastic funk off our two littler ladies, then laid them in the Bath to soak any potential aches away before they woke up. Then, after we washed enough funk away to avoid awkward kid questions, I dropped Murder Mittens off at the Academy along with a dozen of me, let the Infirmary and the Grand Council know that my ladies were indisposed, and took the kids to school.

On the one hand, I totally forgot my plan to talk with the girls and their friends at lunch and maybe suss out some of their names.

On the other hand, Marie and I managed to get a big assed batch of dough to just the right consistency, and if the tomato sauce and hard sausage were a little more southern Med spicy than Italian spicy, the kids did not give the slightest bit of shit about that when I showed up with enough pizzas to stuff every kid in the school full.

Pizza on Fridays at school is the kind of tradition I can get behind.

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